Angel of Mercy
by pacejunkie
Summary: The demons have caught up to Sam, and a surprising ally comes to his aid.


**Title:** Angel of Mercy

**Fandom:** Reaper

**Rating:** PG-13/T

**Summary:** The demons have caught up to Sam, and a surprising ally comes to his aid.

**Word Count:** 3,683

**Disclaimer:** Alas, I do not own Reaper. _glares at Ostroff_

* * *

They all knew Sam was being hunted by demons. It was hard not to notice – the ticking parcel left at his apartment door took half the hallway with it; the car that almost ran Sam down in the intersection crosswalk had plenty of time to stop; and he didn't believe for a minute that that guy in camouflage clothes carrying a high powered semi-automatic was hunting deer at ten o'clock at night in downtown Seattle.

Through it all, Sam tried to go about his business, working at the Bench, catching escaped souls and hanging with his friends. He wasn't taking unnecessary risks but he was trying his best to live as normal a life as possible. They never talked about it, he didn't want to worry Sock and Ben, but deep down, Sam knew that it was only a matter of time until the demons got lucky.

One morning, Sam got a call from one of his co-workers at the Work Bench who said he came down with the flu and could Sam come in and work his shift.

"Sure, no problem," Sam told him.

Preparing to leave, Sam grabbed his keys and told Sock and Ben where he was headed.

"That's really nice of you," said Ben.

"Well, the guy's sick. I'm sure he'd do the same for me," Sam shrugged.

"Sam, you're my inspiration," said Sock. "Someday I hope to be half as virtuous as you. Just half though. That's enough."

Sam laughed. "No you don't. But that's okay."

An hour later the phone rang at the apartment. It was Ted, their boss at the Work Bench.

"Wysocki," said Ted. "Tell Mr. Oliver to get his ass down here asap. He was supposed to fill in for Oscar, we're short-handed."

"He left an hour ago Bossman," said Sock, throwing a dart at the board with the picture of Ted on the bulls-eye as he spoke. "He's not there yet?"

"No," said Ted. "He probably skipped out again to wherever you guys disappear to when I'm not watching. A sharp eagle knows his chicken hawks."

Sock cringed at the saying that made no sense. "Ted I swear, I don't know where Sam is, but I can check under the couch if you want me to."

"Just call me if he shows up," said Ted.

Sock put down the phone and turned to Ben, his mind working. The Bench was a ten minute drive at most, and they only ever took one route.

"Ben, get your coat," Sock said halfway out the door.

* * *

They drove along until they saw it – Sam's car off the road and down a small embankment. Two police cars were at the scene but no ambulance as far as Sock could see, unless it left already. Sock and Ben pulled over and ran to the scene.

"Sam! Sam!" Sock shouted in the direction of the crashed Prius, its windshield smashed, driver's side door dented in. Sock's stomach did an involuntary lurch.

"Stay back sirs," said the uniformed officer walking towards them.

"This is our friend's car," said Ben. "Was he taken to the hospital?"

"There was no one at the scene when we arrived," said the policeman. "We received a report of an abandoned car and no sign of the driver. Sometimes they wander off, try and find help. We've checked the area but no one has turned up reporting an accident."

Sock pointed at the damage to the driver's side of the car. "What did this?" he asked.

"Possibly another car," said the officer, "most likely a hit and run."

"Someone ran him off the road and then _left_ him?" asked Ben.

Just then the officer turned away to take a call. Sock turned to Ben, speaking softly, "or maybe they didn't leave him." Sock leaned over dramatically and sniffed the roof of the crashed car. "I smell demon."

* * *

Sam woke up slowly, feeling cold hard stone beneath him, his head throbbing. He reached up and touched his temple and his fingers came away wet and sticky. He remembered hitting his head on something, but he was in his car. Some lunatic pushed him off the road on the way to work. This was neither home nor a hospital, so where the hell was he?

He sat up and breathed deeply, fighting the dizziness. It was a small empty cell, mostly dark apart from the one foot square of artificial light that came in through a window in the door.

Sam crawled to the door and pulled himself up, listening for sounds. The window was too high for him to look through so he shouted, "Hey! Where am I? Somebody let me out!"

All he succeeded in doing was making his head ache ten times worse. Sam kicked the door furiously and sat back down against the far wall in the darkness with his head between his knees until finally a deep male voice came through the cracks of the steel door.

"Oliver. You hear me?"

"Get me out of here," said Sam.

"Not likely," said the voice. "We've finally captured Satan's son."

"I'm not his son," Sam muttered wearily, less sure than ever.

"So you say," the voice continued, "but thanks to Lucifer and his lies our lives have been reduced to a living hell. Now he may be too powerful for us but you're not, so it's time for some payback."

Sam felt his pulse quicken. "What are you going to do?"

"We're going to give you a little taste of that hell," said the voice ominously. "Welcome to your nightmare, Sam."

He heard footsteps and listened until they faded away. When they were gone he shuddered. He didn't need to see a face to know the identity of his captors.

His luck had finally run out.

* * *

It was Ben's idea to go to Tony for help. Even though the demon who had once been their neighbor was the ringleader of the scheme to capture Sam in the steel cage, an eleventh hour change of heart inspired by his dead partner Steve redeemed him. Despite everything, they still considered Tony a friend and besides, he was really all they had – the only one who had spent time with those rebel demons and might know where Sam was taken.

They knocked on the door to his cabin and Tony welcomed them inside right away. Sock sensed that Tony still felt a bit guilty for nearly burying Sam alive, not to mention the death of Sam's father, that he was willing to do anything he could. First off, Tony swore that he knew nothing about this plot to capture Sam again. After turning on the rest, Tony was kicked out of the circle, and was no longer privy to their plans.

"But I remember an old warehouse we used to use for meetings before finding the circular theatre space that the Devil destroyed," Tony said. "They may have gone back there. We liked it because it was secluded. There's nothing around it but empty lots."

"How do we get in there?" asked Ben.

"I don't know," said Tony. "I don't suppose they would listen to reason. They think they have the Devil's son. For all we know they have, even though I no longer believe that Sam is any threat."

"The Devil's son," repeated Sock, thinking. "We need his help. We need Lucifer."

"No," said Tony, shaking his head, "No, absolutely not. I only narrowly escaped my last encounter with that SOB. He killed my Steve! I won't accept any favours from him."

"Dude, it's for Sam," said Sock. "What do you think the demons are doing to him right now?"

Tony made a pained look. He knew perfectly well what Sam would suffer in the demon's hands, but he tried not to think about it. "Look guys, we can get Sam back on our own, without the Devil's help."

"Maybe Tony's right, Sock," said Ben. "It's never a good idea to ask Satan for a favor."

But Sock was unswayed. "It's not about favors, Ben, it's about _interests_. The Devil isn't going to do it for us, he'd do it because Sam's soul is his property, Sam's his bounty hunter and he would want him back. He'd consider this a personal assault."

"Don't forget he might also be Sam's father," Ben noted, before turning back to Tony, "Sock has a point. If you can't do it we understand, Tony, but maybe we could ask him."

Tony was wavering but still not entirely convinced. "The Prince of Darkness doesn't have the capacity to care about anyone," he said. "If he did do this, it would be purely out of self interest."

"Let's find out," said Sock. "And anyway, I don't give a rat's ass what his reasons are so long as he can rescue Sam."

On that point, Tony had to agree.

* * *

_Twelve hours in captivity_

The floor is cold as ice without his shirt, but Sam didn't care. It was a soft warm bed compared to being hung by your wrists with a course rope for hours. He thought the whips would never stop, each lash cutting deeper into his skin. Sam lay on his side and drifted in and out, hoping with each patch of blackness that he would finally lose consciousness so he could sleep and forget the pain.

He was still awake when he heard the door open a crack behind him. Sam closed his eyes tighter and pretended to be asleep, hoping they'd leave him alone, that they weren't coming back for more.

But instead of the gruff male voice and two large arms pulling at him, Sam heard a soft, feminine lilt.

"Just rest Sam," said the voice, kneeling down behind him. "It's going to be all right. You'll get through this."

Then a hand came to rest on his head. If Sam wasn't so exhausted he would have squirmed away.

"Mom?" Sam muttered in the black, convinced he was delirious. No one sounded like that here.

The hand stroked his hair and stayed with him until he fell asleep.

Later she came back, returning again and again in the dark to clean his wounds and speak to him in that kind, nurturing voice. She would stay and talk for a long time and Sam would just listen. She would talk about beaches and sunsets and a big beautiful world, anything to keep his mind off of his situation. He never saw her face but Sam imagined his mother for comfort, while at the same time hoping that she was not really here but somewhere far away and safe.

* * *

Just because Sock and Ben decided to call upon the Devil for help didn't mean they knew how to reach him. So they went to the one place where they had the closest contact with the underworld, the line of eternal torment at the DMV. Gladys was not happy to see them.

"Good morning Gladbags," greeted Sock. Then it dawned on him that Gladys was a demon too, "You wouldn't happen to know where Sam is by any chance?"

"Why should I?" she asked, frowning at them like a good civil servant.

"Well you're a demon and as it happens, Sam was kidnapped by demons," said Sock. "We're just wondering whether you've picked up any chatter on the demon network about it."

"No," replies Gladys, disinterested. "Is that all?"

"Can we contact the Devil from here and ask for his help?" blurted Ben before they were turned away.

At his question Gladys went white.

"Look," said Sock, leaning in towards her, "we know Lucifer is not your favorite person after what happened with Volta, but Sam is the reason you got sprung from hell and put back here, have you forgotten that?"

"No, I haven't forgotten," said Gladys. "But I can't help you. Next!"

Sock and Ben turned away in frustration. They were almost to the door when Gladys called after them, "Boys!"

They turned back, hoping she had changed her mind, but instead she said not unkindly, "I'm sorry about Sam. I wish I could help."

"Then why don't you?" asked Ben.

Gladys merely looked at them sadly and then turned to help the next customer.

* * *

_Thirty six hours in captivity_

They take him out, commit some unspeakable act, and then throw him back like garbage.

The fire.

The whips.

The water.

Around the clock it went, every visit bringing a new horror to the point where Sam buried himself as far into a corner as he could get, fighting the spiders for real estate, and almost had a coronary each time the door opened.

Except when it was her.

When she came it all went away, for a little while at least. He didn't even notice the heat so much, or the hunger in his gut. It was like she bore a small bit of his burden and took it away with her with each visit. It was always hot in there, like someone had the furnace turned way up. In the room they take him to there were actual flames, burning from torches and pits, filling the room with unbearable heat and smoke, obscuring Sam's vision so he couldn't see his tormentors.

After two days without real sleep and only the smallest servings of food to keep him alive, Sam began to understand what hell was like. He wondered if he were to tell his captors this would they let him go. He got it now, they achieved their objective.

What more did they want from him?

* * *

Having struck out with Lucifer, they reverted to their original plan. Tony led Sock and Ben to the warehouse to check it out. Truth was they had no plan, apart from a desire to get Sam out and a willingness to give the demons anything they wanted in return. They reached a chain link perimeter fence when they were startled by a voice.

"Where you boys headed?"

Sock and Ben cried out in surprise, dropping their flashlights. They turned to see The Devil standing there, smiling like always. Tony was nowhere to be seen. Ben was frozen; too shocked to speak so Sock took charge.

"The demons have got Sam," said Sock, pointing to the warehouse, "and we think he's in there. We came to get him out."

"If he's still alive," squeaked Ben, flinching. "Can you help us?"

The Devil looked at the warehouse, silent for quite some time. Finally he spoke, "One thing I've learned about our Sammy, he makes as many friends as he does enemies. Lucky for him, he doesn't need my help."

Before Sock could ask him what he meant by that he was gone.

* * *

_Sixty six hours in captivity_

The door opened again, not long after a grueling three hour session with the pain masters. Sam reacted instantly, covering his head and turning to the corner moaning.

"Not again," he begged, "leave me alone."

He dug in deeper and stiffened when a light hand touched his shoulder.

"Sam, it's okay. It's me," she said. "I'm here to get you out. You're going home."

Sam shook his head, not turning around, thinking it had to be some kind of trick. _If I go out there they'll be waiting for me, working their way down their laundry list of tortures, a hellish greatest hits._

"Sam c'mon," the voice insisted, the one that reminded him of his mother, "We have to go now, before the others come back. They think I'm guarding you."

"Who are you?" he asked finally, the question that had been on his mind since she first appeared. Sam slowly lifted his head, but her face was in shadow and the light that spilled in from the hallway burned his eyes.

Sam dropped his head again, deciding he didn't care. He felt a soft t-shirt being pulled down over his head. Sam didn't struggle as she dressed him with care, mindful of his injuries. Then her arms reached around him and she was hauling him to his feet, surprisingly strong. The room spun when Sam stood and he felt sick, but his savior held him and wouldn't let him fall. When she moved toward the door so did he. Sam closed his eyes and allowed himself to be led.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked.

Her voice hardened, becoming somehow more familiar.

"I was in a place like this once, and you got me out. I'm just returning the favour."

Sam pulled back and stopped walking, looking at his caretaker for the first time in the light.

The soft hushing sounds.

The gentle touches.

The first aid.

"Gladys?" Sam said.

"Quiet now, Sam," Gladys whispered. "We don't want to call any attention to ourselves."

* * *

As soon as the Devil materialized Tony transformed and took off like a thief in the night. While in the sky, he surveyed the warehouse until he noticed two figures creeping slowly out of a back exit, on the far opposite side from where Sock and Ben stood. Circling closer, he watched until the figures were illuminated by the glow of a streetlight and recognized Sam, hunched over, being helped along by a demon of all things. Tony landed, and as he did both of their faces widened in fear at the sight of him. Quickly he transformed into his human appearance.

"Sorry if I spooked you," shrugged Tony, "I know demons probably aren't your favourite sight about now."

"Tony," said Sam in relief.

"Are you okay, Sam?" asked Tony, taking in his appearance with concern.

Sam nodded slowly, indicating the woman on his right, "It was Gladys. She saved me."

Tony looked to Gladys, remembering the demon they almost buried behind his cabin in the woods.

"I don't know if Sam is potentially evil or not," she explained, looking at Sam with a small smile, "but there's just something about him. Anyway, I couldn't stand by and watch."

Tony remembered Steve, sending him a message to save Sam from Solomon's cage. There _was_ something about Sam, Tony sensed it too. They weren't supposed to kill him, they were supposed to save him, perhaps for some grander purpose to which they were not yet privy, but for the first time, Tony felt like he was part of something bigger. He thanked Gladys, took Sam's arm from around her shoulders and onto his own, and walked Sam back to find his friends.

* * *

Sam insisted he was fine but he wouldn't speak a word about what had happened to him, only that somehow, he owed Gladys his life, which the boys found hard to believe considering her apathy at their encounter at the DMV. As soon as they got back to the apartment Sam showered and went to bed. He dressed carefully behind closed doors or in the dark after that so it was three days before Ben walked in accidentally and caught Sam with his shirt off.

"Sam," Ben said in shock, eyes fixed on the assortment of burns, cuts and bruises on his chest and back in various stages of healing.

Sam quickly pulled his shirt down over his head. "It's nothing Ben. It's okay."

Ben still stared, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. He didn't quite know what to say next, his purpose for entering now seemed stupid.

Sam saved him the trouble. "Are you ready to get some beers?" Sam asked him, in as casual a voice as he could manage.

"Beer o'clock gentleman!" came Sock's voice from the hallway, oblivious to the tension in the bedroom.

"Let's go," said Sam, grabbing his jacket, slapping Ben on the shoulder and leaving the room.

Ben followed behind, hoping that after Sam loosened up with a few drinks, he'd talk about it.

* * *

The doorbell rang and Gladys went to answer it. She didn't have many visitors these days but she resisted the urge to peek through the curtains first; she was trying to get over her paranoia and answer the door like a normal person would, one that wasn't being called names and feared by the neighborhood children. She opened her door and was met by a large bouquet of colorful flowers. A face peeked out from behind them.

"Hi," said Sam.

"Sam," said Gladys, surprised.

"Uh…these are for you. Obviously," he began, offering her the bouquet stiffly. "I remembered you had that greenhouse so I knew you liked them."

Gladys took the flowers, admired them and inhaled their scent. "Thank you, they're lovely. That was thoughtful. Do you want to come in?"

"I can't," he said, shuffling his feet, "I'm just on break from work, but… I wanted to come by and thank you… for what you did. There were times there… I wanted to give up but your visits, well… I wouldn't have made it through if it hadn't been for you. I just wanted you to know that."

"Do the others know, your friends, did you…" she asked.

"No," Sam assured her. "I told them you got me out but they don't know the rest. I didn't know how you felt about it but… we could keep it between us. That's okay."

"Okay," she said smiling.

Sam turned to go but before he left Gladys said, "I never had children, but if I had a son, I'd like to think he would have been a lot like you."

Sam smiled and left with a wave, "I think you would have made a really good mom. See you, Gladys."

Gladys waved back and closed the door, but watched from her window as Sam got into his car and drove away. He would be out again tomorrow, capturing escaped souls and she would collect them at the DMV office like before, only this time they might share a little wink or secret look between them.

He really was a sweet kid, she thought, and Sam was going to need a lot of protection from here on out. She could look after him, just like Tony did. It wouldn't be any trouble at all.


End file.
